Forward
by FaylinnNorse
Summary: To a man whose name I never knew-- Beauty and the Beast, done tragically. Sometimes to go forward, one must revisit the past. She had to sort out her feelings.


This really isn't anything groundbreaking, but I needed to write something, and...this is what came out. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

To the man whose name I never knew,

I don't miss you. I'm sorry; that sounds horrible, and to start off with that, to you who will never hear me say so, never read it, to you who I _killed_, but I—

You understand, don't you? I _can't_ miss you. I've tried, and I can't, and I have to stop. Now. I—to be fair, I never knew you. And I'm sorry for that. I'll say it again, I'm sorry. So, so sorry. If I could go back, and do it over again—

But I can't go back, don't you see? That's what I'm trying to say, that's what I've been trying to tell myself all along, and that's what I have to start living by!

When I came back to the castle—and I told you that I loved you—I was late. I knew I was late. I rushed through the forest in the middle of the night, pushing past trees and briers and thorns, and trying to convince myself I wasn't afraid of the dark. After all, if I was afraid of the dark, how could I have survived in your castle?

But I did survive, somehow. With you. I think you were afraid of the dark as well, even though you locked yourself in it, torturing yourself with its whispers. We both survived it somehow, together. I laugh and I cry now, remembering. The dark: crowding, pushing, squeezing out my breath. Your voice in the darkness, deep, growling, terrifying. And what you asked of me, every night in the dark:

"Will you marry me, Beauty?"

"No, Beast." That awkward, droning silence of a few moments that last forever. "Will you let me go home?"

"No, Beauty."

That was how we were, you remember? I laugh now, and I cry, and I didn't want to do this, because I can't go back, but perhaps the only way to go forward _is_ to go back. And I'm back now, so here I'll stay, and say what I must to you.

That was how we were. I don't know why—or, I do know why, but I wish I didn't. Because you were cruel and haughty, and I was...me. I still am. I always will be, and perhaps I'm sorry for that, perhaps I could have seen...but I can't change that now.

Why did you call me Beauty? I am not so beautiful, and I was not. And why did I call you Beast? You are not so beastly. I suppose we are alike in that—both calling each other as we saw each other then. I was beauty to you. You were a beast to me. I am sorry.

We became comfortable, though, in the dark, as odd companions. And when I came back, after you let me leave, I told you I loved you. But I was too late. _Too late._ You were too darkly poetic, and I should have known that. But I never knew you, truly. Perhaps, even if I'd come in time, it would not have mattered. I...I don't know if I truly loved you. Perhaps I could never have saved you, not having known you well enough to save you.

But how _could_ I have known you? You were a beast to me, and a beast to yourself! You never told me you were a man; I had to find out myself when in death I felt your fur and claws disappear, leaving only your smooth hand, cold beneath my fingers.

I told you I loved you, not because I loved you, but in a futile attempt to bring you back. I was guilty. You died because of me, because of a love I didn't return—couldn't return, couldn't even comprehend—because I didn't come back when I should have. And I'm so, so sorry. I wish I knew you. I might have loved you, if I knew you. Now we'll never know.

But I don't miss you. I'm telling you because I—because I can't go back. I can't change what happened; I can't suddenly know you or love you, and I can't miss a man I never knew. I have to move forward, not backward. I can't kill myself over what happened to you when it wasn't my fault. You chose a life of solitude for yourself, out of your own vanity and insecurities. I don't blame you for your actions, but I can't blame myself either. I have to move on. I hope you can understand.

—From the girl you once called Beauty


End file.
